


Friday Nights

by enchanted_nightingale



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Divorced Harry Potter, Friends to Lovers, Harry Potter/Sherlock Crossover, Hit-Wizard!Harry, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-23
Updated: 2012-06-23
Packaged: 2017-11-08 09:18:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/441635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enchanted_nightingale/pseuds/enchanted_nightingale
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>During a rough period of his life, Greg Lestrade meets one man who makes it all better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Friday Nights

**Author's Note:**

> Beta Reader: pussycatadamah  
> Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock and I do not own Harry Potter, nor the characters from the tv series and the books respectively. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

I.  
He was just going out for a pint, he needed it after the day he had and felt that he deserved it too in a way. the urge to smoke again had tormented him all day, as it usually did when the cases were too stressful, Sherlock was being obnoxious and John could not properly rein him in. the nicotine patches were no big help either. He sighed and pushed the door to the pub open. The warmth, the noise and the smells of smoke and alcohol hit him as soon as he stepped foot inside, enveloping him and driving the coldness of the streets behind. He tugged his long coat to shake off the humidity, dark eyes scanning the place. His almost perpetual scowl vanishes, his expression weary. Detective Inspector Lestrade walked towards the counter. He orders quickly and finishes the first equally quickly. He’s on his second pint when he notices that he’s not the only weary man there. In fact, on the stool next to him, a man is seated. Certainly younger than Lestrade, younger than a certain consulting detective that fell to his death, a thought that Greg firmly squashes, focusing on the empty pint the man has in front of him and the badge that shows on the guy’s waist. The badge starts the conversation. They finish two more pints together, exchanging stories about work. He tells the younger police officer he works in homicide. The other guy smiles and says he works for special task force unit, recently promoted.  
“Greg,” he offers his hand for the other man to shake.  
“Harry,” the green eyed man shakes it, in a steady, sure way.  
They part ways, making an unspoken agreement to meet next Friday evening.

II.  
Greg has known Harry for a month or so when he admits to the raven haired man that his wife has left him. She could not handle the long hours, the fact that he had been nearly kicked off the force because he had believed in Sherlock. Thankfully Mycroft Holmes had used his influence to help him; out of some sense of remorse or something else, but Greg was willing to accept this and not search too closely, because the whole thing with the youngest of the Holmes siblings still hurt; he had liked the genius, felt a bit like an older brother to him. He talks about the whole mess to Harry, who is understanding and willing to support, offer a good word, sneer at the idiocy of tabloids and mass mentality and he makes Greg feel better.  
“What about you?” the Inspector asked. “I feel like I’m taking advantage of you. Here I am, always ranting and you just sit and listen.”  
He gets a smile in return. “My rants are so similar to yours…”  
“I want to listen,” Greg insists.  
Harry orders the second round for that evening and starts talking, about his heavy workload, about his godson’s depression, about his wife and how the marriage is failing because she’s been cheating on him.  
“Do you have kids, Greg?”  
“Two daughters,” he replies.  
A fond smile appears on Harry’s face.  
“I have three sons, my godson included. James is six, Albus is four. Their mother hardly looks at them. They said it’s some form of depression. She’s not depressed if she can’t hug her sons but can fuck her lover behind my back. I finally kicked her out of the house on Wednesday.”  
Greg snorts. “You are right; our rants are similar, only my wife has not cheated on me, yet. It’s a matter of time, I reckon.”  
Harry snorts as well. “We’re pathetic.”  
“Why aren’t you with your kids then?”  
“Their grandmother has them, her mother. I’m supposed to pick them up tomorrow.”  
Greg sighs. “I’m seeing my girls tomorrow as well,” he responds.  
“So, early night?”  
“Might as well.”

III.  
The next time they meet is two Fridays later. Greg had missed those days and he learns Harry had been unable to come as well.  
“She signed the divorce papers, finally” Harry informs the Inspector. “She actually wanted money to do this.” He frowns when he admits it and Lestrade winces. “She left the kids to me, you know, never even asked to see them, set any dates; barely spoke to them before leaving. She did not even take any pictures with her.” Harry shakes his head. “The past few weeks were terrible,” he admits.  
He sounds hurt, like something has cracked inside him and Greg does not have to be a genius to see this. Harry looks exhausted, barely any life left in him. He wonders whether he will look like that and remembers the divorce papers in a drawer in his desk. He shudders. Things with his wife are not that bad; she actually loves the children, just fell out of love with him, or maybe grew tired of being second best to his job. But she wants him there, and he cares for his kids. Harry does not have this and he feels guilty somehow.  
It’s a quiet night for them, opting to sit next to each other and drink. Greg knows that there are no words to comfort the green eyed man and hates using platitudes. When they part ways outside the pub Harry thanks him, two words, in a low tone, green eyes shining with relief. That night, in his bed, in his new apartment, Greg tries to recall whether Harry’s eyes were always such a vivid green colour and why he had not noticed before.

IV.  
It is their one year anniversary. For one year, almost every Friday night they have met in the pub, sometimes drinking themselves into a stupor, others barely touching their glasses. The year has not been easy on them. Greg has more white hair and Harry is beginning to show some just over his ears. Their personal lives have not gotten any better. While Greg has managed to get along with his ex wife and see his daughters on the weekends, Harry has learned to be a mother and a father to his boys. His wife disappeared and the man for a while had been too pale, too thin and too stressed for it to be healthy and Greg had worried, but he’s gotten better. While Greg has gone out a few times on dates he has not had any luck. Harry, because of his fame, had too many suitors throwing themselves at him and he did not like it. Nobody knows how it happens, perhaps it’s the alcohol, the atmosphere, their football team wining or sheer madness but that night, just before they go their own way, it happens. They kiss. The next day Greg thinks he imagined it, but his lips burn at the sensation and he remembers all too well how Harry had smelled when they had been close to each other, their warm breaths mingling while they stood close to each other out in the cold street. He has no idea what to think about it, how to act or how he feels about it. And there is no time to do so either as he has Abby and Jenny, his two girls to distract him.

V.  
He almost does not go to the pub. He gets there but for a while he just stands there, outside the door. His mind is in a mess this past week, a whirlwind of emotions and thoughts and ‘what ifs has been driving him insane. The cold is biting and he has started feeling numb when Harry storms out of the pub, spots him, and scowls.  
“You are an idiot,” he tells Greg. “A fucking idiot that will catch pneumonia if you keep this up.”  
“We kissed.”  
“I know, I was there.”  
“I think I made the first move.”  
“No shit.”  
“You should punch me,” Greg says.  
“I’m thinking of it right now but thanks for giving me permission, now get inside you idiot before we both freeze.”  
Harry sounds snarkier than ever and he is cursing more than Greg has ever heard him curse. Dark eyes meet green. Greg sighs.  
“Fine.”  
“Excellent,” Harry says. “Also, you’re buying me a drink. Then, if I’m not still angry at you, we’ll kiss again. Got it?”  
Greg’s eyes are wide as he nods. The words, “But you’re straight, right?” leave his mouth, making Harry pause before opening the door to the pub.  
“Does it matter?” Harry asks.  
Greg shakes his head and follows after him.

VI.  
They have a standing date on Fridays now. They first grab a few pints at the pub, discuss their days, rant, talk and then they leave, together. They usually get into a car, his or Harry’s, whichever is closest. They get in and the night changes. Their new found intimacy flourishes, away from prying eyes and curious ears. Greg can finally touch Harry, kiss the green eyed man. He knows Harry is younger, probably in his thirties, while he is in his forties. He does not ask though. He also does not ask why Harry does not find this weird or inappropriate. Whenever they are together all the insecurities and fears about the attraction that brings them together vanish and a need appears, the need to touch, feel and taste. A car is a bit awkward, space wise and the fact that they are in public and anyone can see them if they pass them by but as neither man is ready to take the next, big step, they manage just fine.  
Greg opens his mouth and runs his tongue along Harry’s lower lip. It’s soft and a bit salty from all the salted peanuts the man had nibbled on. It makes Greg want to smile. Harry buries his fingers in his hair, fingers grazing at his scalp as he opens his mouth, allowing Greg to taste him. The green eyed man makes a sound of approval, his own tongue darting out to meet Greg’s. They both moan at the contact, their bodies reacting to the sensations, the closeness. Harry’s hands boldly leave Greg’s head and travel lower, undressing the man slightly so that Harry can tease his nipples, kick up the lust another notch. The kissing stops and Harry takes the chance to use his mouth and tongue to tease other areas and Greg lets him, enjoying what he has to offer. And when it all gets too much, zippers are lowered, hands are searching out in the dark. It is messy and fast and lately, just not enough for either of them.

VII.  
“What on earth happened to you?”  
Greg pauses a bit, taking everything in. Harry looks a mess; there are small cuts on his face and neck, a plaster covering a much bigger cut over his brow and one on his neck. The green eyed man is also limping a bit and walks as if everything hurts.  
“Shouldn’t you be in a hospital?” Greg asks, “What are you doing here?”  
“Please, no mention of hospitals, dreadful places that they are,” Harry replies, then he tries to sit on a stool and grimaces.  
“Did you drive here?” Greg asks, worry growing by the minute.  
“… No?”  
Greg sighs and settles his tab. “Come on,” he tells Harry. “I’m taking you home. This is no place for you. And on the way we can talk, you can tell me which truck ran you over.”  
Harry snorts. “Not a truck, just an operation gone wrong. At least we caught the bastard we were looking for,” he adds and without a protest allows Greg to escort him to his car.  
“Address?” the DI asks.  
“Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place,” Harry responds as he settles in the car seat.  
“Okay, you just grunted in pain,” Greg says, alarmed.  
“Knife wound.”  
“Knife wound!”  
“Just drive Greg, I’m fine, I promise,” Harry tells the man.

VIII.  
An Auror had not been his cup of tea, a young Harry James Potter had decided early on. The Department of Mysteries held some appeal but he did not think he had what it took to make an Unspeakable. His true path was revealed when during a mission on his second year as an Auror, they had had to take down their suspects. Harry had been the only one not squeamish to do it. That was what got him noticed. A week later he got paid a visit by Veronica Hunt, one of the most talented Hit Wizards (“I think that’s chauvinistic but sounds better than Hit Witch”). She had an offer, one too kind to refuse, and Harry was not talking about money as he did not need the gold. Of course, the payment was not bad either. He got pulled out of the Aurors for three more years of training; most of it had not been in the UK. When he got back he was reinstated as an Auror, he needed that cover. Harry started seeing Ginny again. They had been apart for so long that they did not seem to fit anymore but she was comfortable and warm and there and she wanted him still. Harry accepted it. They got married within a year and on their anniversary James was born. By the time they had had Albus, Harry or as he was also known Hit Wizard Jackal, had killed around twenty five people, not counting the collateral damage of his missions. He had also lost any connection to Ginny and had known his wife had been cheating on him for at least a year. The only reason he knew Albus was his were the eyes and the paternity tests he had performed on both his sons.  
Meeting Greg had been the best thing that had happened to Harry in a while. The man, even though he was a Muggle, was great company, much better than any of his colleagues and old friends who all seemed to either pity him or try and get him married off again. Harry did not need that kind of attitude so he preferred thinking of Greg as his only friend nowadays. When they kissed something had changed and Harry, always being a person driven by instincts and hunches, felt there was something that just fit between him and Greg, so he did not fight this one bit, deciding to go with the flow and enjoy the man who made something warm coil and uncoil in his stomach, the man who aroused not just his body, but his heart as well.  
He had wished Greg’s first visit to his home was under better circumstances but it could not be helped. That night, they spent it in Harry’s bedroom, the green eyed wizard assigned to bed rest with Greg threatening to get him to a hospital if he did not comply. Then they talked, just talked. Greg never asked details about how Harry got into such a messy state. Not that Harry could tell him that he had taken down a drug ring that dealt with mind altering potions that operated on both magical and non magical community or that the guy who led the whole thing had Vampire bodyguards who had given Harry a tough time. Still, it was nice to know Greg cared for him and that he was not one to smother, that he liked being there, supportive and stern and did not act as if Harry would break. The latter Harry knew after he had convinced the guy to join him on the bed for a snogging session that left them both breathless.

IX  
The first time he sees all of Harry is when they visit his apartment. Greg had not had many people over as the place is small, just two rooms, one for him, and one for his girls. The kitchen is nothing much but the sitting room is big and the bathroom too. It is also a bachelor’s pad, save the children’s room. Harry seems to like the aesthetics of the place, all dark wood and steel and gadgets that the DI hardly enjoys due to his long hours at work. They stay in the sitting room long enough to kick off their shoes and stumble in Greg’s bedroom together. Harry has completely healed from the last time Greg saw him. They undress each other urgently, wanting to do more with each other, see more of each other. The DI is impressed by Harry’s body, the younger man is full of corded muscles and power and tanned while he is not as fit as he wants to be, slightly overweight from all the takeout foods he eats, but Harry does not care if the way he licks his lips is any indication. Greg is pushed on the bed and the green eyed man climbs on it after him. They stand on the edge of the mattress, Harry straddling Greg as they kiss noisily and sloppily and hungrily. Then Harry places a palm on Greg’s chest and pushes them apart and slowly, like a snake, lowers his body to the floor again, coming to sit between the dark eyed man’s spread legs, hands on the thighs and an air of anticipation about him. It is trial and error that first time Harry goes down on him and when later Greg, mustering his courage, returns the favour. They both know the mechanics but never had to perform. In the end they both get the satisfaction they wanted and they end up holding each other until Harry leaves and returns to his home. For the rest of the night and until sleep claims him, Greg wonders about the scars on his lover’s body and exactly how dangerous Harry’s role is in the task force he is in.

X  
Something changes in Greg. His subordinates and colleagues notice and comment on it whenever they think he is not paying attention or cannot hear them. Greg lets them because he too wants to know what has changed. His relationship with Harry is closer, more solid and he is happy, happier than he was in a long while. That Friday he gets the girls early. Harry knows that; he had called ahead. The green eyed man had been happy for him and tipped him off about a new children’s movie he had taken his sons to. Greg’s ex wife notices ‘the change’ in the DI as well and comments on it.  
“I don’t know what you see Kate,” he tells the mother of his kids.  
“There’s just something about you…” she trails off. Then her eyes narrow for a moment before a small, sad smile appears on her face. “I see.”  
“See what?” the DI asks.  
“You’ve found someone,” Kate said, leaving him speechless. She does not ask questions, he suspects she is hurt that he has someone while he knows she has not met another man yet. He is not ready to tell her about Harry, tell anyone about Harry, not really. It is a quiet Friday and weekend for him.

XI  
They end up at Harry’s house that evening and Greg gets to test the man’s shower after standing in the rain all day. Greg sits and his entire body aches from the humidity. Harry notices while he pours them both drinks, scotch, a bit stronger than their usual choice but it warms them up faster.  
“You are too tense,” Harry tells him and he shrugs.  
“Tough day. We found a kid by the Thames. Just shy of thirteen…” he trails off. “Third one this week.”  
Harry frowns, a thoughtful look on his face. “Brunette?”  
“Yes.”  
“Missing for a day?”  
Greg is now staring at Harry. “How on earth do you know?”  
Green eyes meet his own dark orbs and Harry seems to shut off a bit. “Mm, the woman you are looking for…”  
“Woman?”  
“Yes, she’s notorious for such crimes. Finds girls with ambitions for modelling, coaches them a bit, dresses them up, kills them.”  
Greg sighs. “I hate serial killers.”  
“Join the club.”  
“How do you know this, honestly now?”  
“She dealt in trafficking for a while. A colleague of mine was keeping an eye on her last year.”  
“Do I get a name?”  
“Sorry, but I will get her off the streets,” Harry tells him, a strange sort of darkness in his voice. “You’re still tense,” he adds as he changes the subject and Greg lets him. Just as he lets him undress him slowly. Just as he lets Harry go ahead and massage him. It does wonders for him, the massage, relaxing his body from the tension of his work and creating a whole new kind of tension when the green eyed man’s skilled hands manage to get Greg aroused. The smile on Harry’s face betrayed the man’s intentions and Greg did not mind one bit.

XII  
Greg opens the door to his apartment and meets Harry’s smiling face. The green eyed man lifts the container of chicken soup he brought along with him and another bag, this one from a pharmacy.  
“I got your call,” Harry tells him. “Came as soon as I could.”  
“Stop being so perky,” Greg tells him, butchering the words a bit because of his cold.  
Harry smiles, a bit amused, and steps inside. “Well, now I’m here so you can relax.”  
Greg just motions him to the sitting room.  
“Also, know that you have me for the weekend,” Harry tells him and Greg starts for a bit. He does not have the girls coming; he had notified Kate that he was sick.  
“Are you sure about this?” he asks his green eyed lover.  
“I would not be here otherwise. Now, plates?” he replies and Greg tells him where to find them. The DI is glad Harry’s here, that he’s not left all alone to feel miserable. He is so glad that he does not ask his lover why the body of the female serial killer he had been after turned up inexplicably dead just two days ago. He pushes back all his suspicions about the exact nature of Harry’s job and just enjoys the fact that the man is here with him. 

XIII  
Somehow they start meeting in private, outside the pub, more nowadays. They go to the theatre, the movies, eat dinner out. Greg belatedly realizes they are dating. Then he realizes they are doing this a bit backwards, but none of them seems to mind. Also, Sally Donovan finally confronts him at work, asking what has lifted his spirits so much lately. He finally answers her, only to get her off his back, that he had met someone and he is dating again. She congratulates him, asks for a name. He politely dodges that bullet and directs her back to their case. He knows he is not embarrassed. Lately he has been feeling more comfortable in his skin. They kiss and touch in public with Harry now and Greg thinks he will have to speak to Kate soon.

XIV  
They have done it. They had not been planning or anything, the lust just became too much for them. Greg was glad he had bought all that lubricant and condoms ever since they first went down on each other. Now, lying next to Harry, both of them panting hard, he wonders why they had not tried earlier. Greg feels a bit sore and tired and strangely relieved it finally happened, but mostly he feels sated and relaxed.  
“Are you sure you are okay?” the green eyed man asks him, looking at him with tender and worried eyes, one hand rubbing up and down Greg’s naked back.  
The older man is smiling. “Relax Harry,” he replied and the other sighs and settles next to him.  
“Sorry, just nervous.”  
“You didn’t hurt me,” Greg assures him. It had, initially, been a bit awkward and hurtful, but a bit more lube and a bit more stretching and after Harry had found his prostate, nothing had mattered. Still, the way Harry worried was touching. It made Greg feel better, helped vanish all his insecurities about how Harry had a better body, was gorgeous and younger and should really look elsewhere for love and companionship, that he would tire of him easily.  
“You know I love you,” Harry told him, the words coming as if he read his mind. Then he kisses Greg and the DI admits he loves the green eyed wizard back.

XV  
“Hi! I’m James and this is Albus!”  
“And I’m Teddy.”  
Three sets of eyes are peering at him curiously and Greg stares at the three kids, a smile on his lips. Harry had informed him he had spoken to his sons about Greg, their relationship, that he was happy with him and the boys had been curious. This prompted a meeting at Harry’s house, where said man would cook for the man and boys of his life. Domestic was not something he had ever associated with Harry but the man seemed like he somehow fit better. He certainly seemed lighter around his kids, smiled more, fussed more and just seemed in his element. Greg had a lot of fun that night and the attitude of the three boys towards him was lukewarm at first and warmer as the night went on. By the end of the night, Greg only hoped his coming out to his family was as smooth.

XVI  
The rain had let up but they were both soaked. Neither of them minded much; the little restaurant they had entered when the skies started pouring had served delicious food and after a bottle of wine they were both in high spirits; or was it just the proximity to each other? They were standing close to each other, foreheads pressed together, stealing soft kisses from each other when a gasp made them separate for a bit.  
“Greg?”  
He turned at the familiar voice of one John Watson.  
“John!” he greeted the man, who looked slimmer than he used to be, more tired and yet still had that gentle air about him. He absently thought that without Sherlock towering near him, John looked like something vital was missing. For the first time he felt guilty he had lost touch with the man. He should have tried harder, kept tabs on the doctor who had lost too much that day. He eyed the cane and his stomach coiled unpleasantly. Then his brain reminded him that John had just caught him making out with a man.  
“Right, Harry, this is John Watson, doctor and a very patient man. We worked together a year ago. John, Harry Potter, my…I have not introduced you to anyone yet,” he realized, making Harry smile.  
“His lover,” Harry said, offering a hand to John, who shook it.  
The doctor seemed at a loss. “Umm, weren’t you…?”  
“Married? Yes, got divorced,” Greg answers the unasked question.  
“We are heading to get dessert,” Harry says. “I know a place that makes chocolate desserts to kill for. Wanna join us? Catch up?”  
John looks uncertain but Greg and Harry manage to get him to join them for a couple of hours. They catch up, somewhat and they make a promise to keep in touch. This time Greg follows through with his promise and finds a new friend in John, who is fine with him being with a man, never judges and only offers support and a new drinking buddy for when Harry is busy.

XVII  
Lately, the green eyed man seems rather tense, and busier than ever. He cancels their date because he has to leave the country for a few days. John is the one around to hear Greg bemoan the fact that he will not get to see his lover that week and maybe the next.  
“What does he do?” John finally asks. “Yes, he’s with the police…”  
“Of sorts,” Greg says. “Special task force or something.”  
A thoughtful look enters John’s face.  
“What?” Greg asks.  
“Something Sherlock once said… never mind though. One more pint?”  
“Nah! Trying to cut back, started exercising too,” he admits.  
The doctor is pleasantly surprised. “Good for you! What brought this on?”  
“Harry.”  
“He asked you to change?”  
“Let me rephrase that, the abs and six pack he has under those sweaters and shirts,” Greg says.  
“Too much information!”  
“I’m not sharing details,” the DI stated matter of factly, “He’s mine. Get your own toy boy.”  
John smiles. “So he is younger than you!”  
“Yes, keeps me on my toes too,” Greg admits.  
“You’re happy?”  
“Yes,” he says.  
“Good,” John replies.

XVIII  
“Come again?”  
“I’m seeing someone and that someone is a man,” Greg tells Kate, who sits across from him, eyes wide and jaw dropped. The girls are not home, he had wanted to talk to her in private, feeling that it was time she knew. It had not been easy, admitting this. An ‘I’m gay’ speech just did not cover it. He found that he liked Harry’s attitude that labels should not be used, that they were the way they were.  
“What?” Kate stutters.  
“My new… lover is a man,” the DI repeats.  
A long silence ensues between them, during which he drinks his coffee and hers grows cold. Then questions follow. Was he always into men? Was it her fault? Had he been seeing men behind her back? They were all in the same vein and he answered them all, patiently. He knew she was shocked by all this and tried to be supportive during it all. By the time she had no more questions, they were both weary and tired and Kate understood much better Greg’s situation.  
“Just thought you ought to know,” Greg tells her.  
She snorts. “Have the girls met him?”  
“No!” he says. “I would never go behind your back like this. You are the first I told. Well, second. A friend saw us and well… Harry told his kids.”  
“His name is Harry? He has kids?”  
“Yes and yes,” Greg says. “He’s divorced too.”  
She sighs. “I can’t… I need to think.”  
“Okay.” He would give her this much.  
“Could you pick up the girls later? They are at my sisters,” Kate tells him and Greg tries not to smile. He agrees and leaves her alone with her thoughts. 

XIX  
Harry rises above him, looking amazing and beautiful and Greg cannot keep his hands off his man. It had been a while since they could get together and just have sex, work being the number one reason they have had no time. But here and now, he is buried inside Harry. Earlier on, the green eyed man had seduced him by doing a short strip tease number. And he said short because he had crossed the room, torn off the rest of the clothes and practically jumped the younger man who was rather enthusiastic about Greg taking charge.  
“Greg!” he moans as he lowers his body, taking more of Greg’s cock inside.  
The DI groans in pleasure and set up a faster pace, once again thanking his luck Harry was so athletic and did not tire as easily. When they finally came, Harry collapsed over him and Greg took the opportunity to kiss the man.  
“You need to shave,” Harry tells him after a while.  
“Bother’s you?” Greg asks.  
“No, you just look sexier like this,” the green eyed man tells him. He kisses Greg, an open mouth kiss with tongue and possessiveness that the older man likes. “I want you all to myself,” he admits and Greg promises to shave. It pleases Harry and sets off another round of sex for them.

XX  
He has not see Mycroft Holms in a while, not since the last time the man kidnapped him to have a chat about Sherlock and his drug abusing habits. But that was ages ago and Sherlock has been dead for nearly two years now and Greg has to think hard of a reason the man known as the British Government would want to speak with him.  
“Mycroft,” he greets the man with the umbrella.  
“Detective Inspector Lestrade,” the man grins, his usual, placating grin that sets him on edge.  
“Why did you want to speak to me?” Greg asks, wondering why the man did not call or even text, like normal people.  
“There’s been an incident,” Holmes says.  
“And?”  
“It concerns someone close to you, one Harry Potter?”  
And Greg is suddenly worried and tense and hates the urge he has to beg for information. “What about Harry?”  
“He’s alive,” Mycroft says and Greg’s heart settles. “But you need to know a few things before you can go and meet with him.”  
“I’m listening.”  
And Mycroft Holmes talks. He tells Greg about the magical community, so close yet so divided from the non magical, the Muggle world, Mycroft calls it. He talks about a war that Greg had not even known, had taken place. He talks about Aurors, the magical police. He talks about Hit Wizards, too. He talks about Harry being a Hit Wizard, being a wizard in the first place. And all that on the way to Number 12. And when Greg goes in the room and sees Harry on the bed, unconscious, looking pale and small and barely breathing, the DI feels the world spin.  
“He cannot go to a hospital so he is being treated at home,” Mycroft tells Greg. “As his partner I only thought it right to tell you.”  
“How on earth did he get in such a mess?” Harry’s lover asks.  
“He killed Moran, one of Moriarty’s henchmen. Saved me a lot of time too.” only these words do not come from Mycroft Holmes, but from a different Holmes, one Greg thought he had buried and he feels the urge to sit down as Sherlock walks in the room, thinner and paler than he used to be but very much alive. 

XXI  
When he next meets John Watson he cannot quite meet the man’s eyes. Harry has urged him to go. He and the green eyed man had a long discussion about secrets, lies, work and relationships. Greg was so glad Harry had opened his eyes that he could not be angry that the man, wizard, had kept secrets from him. He was more angry at Sherlock lying to them, and John in particular. The highly functional sociopath had been sad, but unrepentant.  
“Everything for John to be safe,” he had said and Greg could understand that notion.  
“No more lies,” Harry had promised after everything was discussed and Greg had sat on the bed next to the green eyed man and kissed his pale lips.  
Seeing John, Greg felt guilty, but he squashed it.  
“Hey! Greg claps John on the back.  
“Where’s Harry?” the doctor asks.  
“Work related accident” Greg offers. “Nothing serious. Come on, I’m buying you a beer tonight.”

XXII  
Harry visits him in his office. He looks better, still pale, ribs still a bit tender but he no longer looks like he might keel over where he stands. It is a slow day at the office and Donovan meets him first, before Greg can get there. It looks like she is flirting with him too and Greg wonders whether this week she has fought with Anderson, again. Their on again off again relationship is a bit of a joke really.  
“Greg!” Harry smiles at him when he sees him, crosses the room and then their eyes meet. He kisses Greg on the mouth, a chaste brushing of lips, but everyone sees it. No one misunderstands the meaning behind this gesture either.  
“Come, we can talk in my office,” Greg says, ignoring the gob smacked looks of his colleagues and he and Harry retreat.

XXIII  
They are in the pub, their pub, when they see it on the news. Sherlock’s name is cleared. Greg does not know how this is done but he knows it has Mycroft all over it. Harry is smiling as well.  
“For the longest time ever I was assigned to Mycroft,” he admits to Greg. “And that guy is such a… politician.”  
“That sounds insulting.”  
“It is, but to that guy it’s a compliment,” Harry tells him. “Anyway, I was too busy. That Moriarty guy…” he shivers. “I hate it when geniuses go bad.”  
“Tell me about it,” Greg mutters. “So, how long before Lazarus rises from the dead?”  
Greg’s phone rings.  
“Won’t you answer?” Harry asks.  
“It’s Watson,” the DI comments and answers it.  
“Did you know?” The doctor sounds angry.  
Greg does not even bother to act as if he has no idea what the guy means. “Sherlock visited you then?” he asks and Harry nods in understanding.  
“How long Greg?”  
“Since last Friday,” the DI admits. “He wanted to tell you but he was a mess… John, you did not do something stupid, did you?”  
“Does punching the arrogant ass count?”  
“Punch all you want,” Greg tells him. “Need me to come by 221b and …”  
“No, we are fine,” John tells him. “We’ll talk later.” He hangs up.  
“Sherlock in trouble?” Harry knowingly asks.  
“You know it.”  
Harry sighs. “Well, he had it coming. So, change of subject, you coming over for lunch tomorrow?”  
“Yes, Kate gave the go ahead. We met yesterday, told the girls,” Greg admits. “They are curious about you.”  
“Good. The boys have missed you,” Harry tells his lover. “It’s going to be interesting, all our kids together…”  
“Yours know not to do their… thing.”  
“Of course,” Harry nods.  
“Good.”

XXIV  
Eventually Sherlock is back on the streets, running around London, solving cases, helping Lestrade and giving him headaches at the same time. Greg is much calmer these days though Anderson is not, but Greg hardly minds that. He sees John more as well. Both detective and doctor look much better now, their camaraderie looking as if a day had not gone by. Greg does not ask whether they are just friends or something more now and does not really care much to find out. Harry keeps him busy, introducing him to the magical world, a whole new side of life. Their kids spend more time together, he meets Harry’s friends and family but not the man’s ex wife and the last one is not a bad thing. His daughters love Harry and the boys and like spending time with him. Greg gets around to introducing Kate to Harry eventually. It is not as bad as he feared it would be, especially since Kate commends him on his taste.  
At one point they discuss moving in together with Harry but they do not do it. Greg’s apartment is a bit like a sanctuary for the pair and continues to be for the coming years and later, after the kids go to school, the boys finish Hogwarts, Harry finally retires from the front lines of the Hit Wizards and gets a job as a professor of all things, teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts in Hogwarts. Greg cannot see the castle, but the green eyed wizard takes him close enough, to Hogsmeade, Diagon Alley. Their companionship stays with them, growing stronger and Greg finds he is happy with how his life has turned out and when he tells Harry, one Friday night the green eyed wizard kisses him and tells him, “Me too.”

 

End of story.


End file.
